


combat, baby

by theseourbodies



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/theseourbodies
Summary: Ray Kowalski goes looking for a fight and stumbles into deep waters, instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ray & Ray are partners at the 27th, because *mumblemumble*
> 
> References Juliet is Bleeding.

It's the tail-end of a hard case, and Ray's been so ready for a good fight to bleed out some tension that when Vecchio gets a hand all wrapped in the back strap of the harness and a fistful of Ray's shirt, half-hurls him into interrogation one, all Ray thinks is _fucking finally_. 

He's all ready for a good match, and Vecchio jams stiff fingers into his chest obligingly. "Listen," Vecchio hisses, "Listen you punk, I get that you're pissed and you're looking for a fight so this disaster will be on my head and not yours when I snap, but find something else to rag on, ok. I catch enough crap about everything else, I do not need you going after the one thing I know is perfectly fine about me."

Ray's been backed into the wall by Vecchio's hand; he knocks it away and pushes into the center of the room, wheeling to face off with Vecchio properly. "Yeah ok, so you're telling me I shouldn't be suspicious of a guy spends more money on a work suit than I spend on clothing in half a year? Alls I was saying is that a man like that, a cop like that, must not be used to getting dirty, doing the actual _job_." 

Vecchio's all right angles when he's properly pissed, face tight and eyes flat. "Listen, you little shit, I don't have nothing to prove to you," he sneers, and the insult's made more shocking because Vecchio was a good Catholic and therefore rarely swore unless it was to take the Lord's name in vain as creatively as possible. "I do the job and I do it well, _we do it well_ , and I take a lot from you, I do. About the car, about the paperwork, about whatever way I sneezed or blinked wrong this week. But I--Ah-ah, shut up I'm talking!" Vecchio snaps, with a sharp gesture; Ray glares daggers at him as he paces in front of Vecchio in agitation. "-- But I am done," Vecchio continues, with an air of finality, "catching crap about my damn suits." 

Ray snorts, pissed at the way Vecchio said it, like it was case-closed, never to be revisited, and that was apparently the last straw. 

Vecchio yanks at his own collar, and yells, "Jesus Kowalski! You think this is all for fun and games, the way I dress?! You think you're any better?" Vecchio wraps his hands in the material of Ray's polo and shakes him hard, once, before Ray breaks away. Vecchio gives him a disgusted once over and waves a hand at Ray's outfit. "You're doing the exact same thing I am, but you just want something different. When'd you buy your first pair of shit-kickers, huh? High School? That when you stopped wearing your glasses, too?" 

Ray bounces up on the balls of his feet and grits his teeth. "It's none of your business, and it sure as shit don't matter. It's not the same thing, at least this is practical for what I do."

"Bullshit," Vecchio says flatly. "Bullshit. It's exactly the same thing, you're just better at hiding it. No, it was high school. Don't forget, I've seen your ex-wife Kowalski, and I know what the hell she likes; I know what you probably had to do to get her, to keep her." 

Ray ratchets forward, hits Vecchio without even realizing he's moved until Vecchio's head snaps to the side and he stumbles. Ray's ears are ringing, and his face feels hot-- he'd wanted a fight, desperately, but he'd forgotten that Vecchio knows his soft targets, too. He feels wrong footed and he's so out of it he almost doesn't hear Vecchio start up again, much, much softer.

"Yeah. So you stopped wearing your dorky glasses and bought a leather jacket. You, you probably know more about how I grew up than I do. You think I hung out with the guys I hung with because of my family connections? No, no I played the right part and I wore the right clothes and it was usually better than armor. It was power." Vecchio was pressing the heel of his hand to the side of his mouth, and his eyes were looking far off, or maybe deep inside. His mouth twisted as he checked his hand for blood. "And it was a little about getting the girl, too, I can say that." 

Ray's breath catches, but he's still a little raw and looking for a fight-- if only so Vecchio will maybe stop looking so strangely vulnerable--"It was about the girl, yeah. And I got her too, so what." Ray lets his voice be light, challenging; he's just trying to break the strange energy gathering in this room, but Vecchio goes absolutely rigid in front of him. 

"Yeah," Vecchio says in a scraped raw voice, "Yeah Kowalski. You married your girl, and I put mine in the goddamn ground." Vecchio shoves his balled up fists in his pants pockets and affects a convincing careless slouch while Ray watches, gutted. _Stupid, Ray, stupid_ he thinks. "So maybe let's agree to disagree," Vecchio says amicably, hollowly. The fight's left him as quickly as it left Ray. "You've got the way you dress, and it works, I've got the way I dress and it also works. I've had your back," Vecchio says, almost a question at the end. 

Ray sags against the wall, nodding. Yeah, yeah, he can admit it; bitchy as Vecchio can be, there's been no time when he's put his slacks over his partner's safety, Ray's safety. Vecchio meets his eyes flatly for a few seconds before he nods, sharply, and turns sharply on his heel and slinks out, leaving Ray all alone with his slack fists. 

Ray thunks his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. He waits for his body to calm; it's a long while until he leaves.


End file.
